


Temptations of the Masked Man

by Wandering_the_seven_seas



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Angst, Canon Suicide, Death, F/M, Guns, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, gun - Freeform, ilse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:43:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_the_seven_seas/pseuds/Wandering_the_seven_seas
Summary: A two-part story of Melchior and Moritz's suicide. Based off of the original play by Frank Wedekind by adding in The Masked Man.





	Temptations of the Masked Man

Moritz trembled, the weight of the gun in his hand felt like a brick but he just couldn’t put it down.

“Come on Moritz, pull the trigger. I believe in you, you can do it.”

“Shut up,” he whispered, hanging his head in his hands while his elbows rested on his knees. He was back, The Masked Man. He was quiet for the whole walk here. Oh, God. Why did he have to come back? Why did he have to come back?

“That’s not very nice, Moritz. Just a tiny twitch of your finger and I will go away forever. There is love in heaven, Moritz. Don’t you want to be loved?”

“Shut up, just leave me alone!” he picked up a rock from the ground next to him and threw it at the figure. The Masked Man simply dodged the projectile, sliding to the left like a snake watching its prey. Moritz picked up the gun once more. Whatever warmth that it had gained from his hands had seeped out into the ground and was replaced with an icy chill.

“You will not have to worry about sin, for all will be forgiven.”

Moritz held the gun to his temple. As soon as the cool metal touched the skin of his face his shaking stopped. Everything was still, too still. Moritz heard a rustling of leaves. He threw the gun down to a thick patch of grass to his left as Ilse’s head popped out of the wood. 

“Moritz Stiefel!”

“Ilse! You frightened me!” he gasped in shock. The gun was safely out of sight but his heart still beat rapidly. No no no no no, the peace and joy he was starting to feel washed away along to the riverside, destined to sail away.

“Did you lose something?”

She walked forward and Moritz prayed that the gun would remain cloaked in the darkness. Everything was getting cloaked in darkness. His mind eroding along with the dark blue of the night. “Why did you frighten me?” he begged, curling in on himself. His eyes grew wide in realization, Melchi was supposed to come over to his house tonight. “Damn it!” he whispered. The Masked Man laughed, a shrill agonizing sound.

“What are you looking for?”

Moritz looked Ilse in the eyes. All the light in his eyes had been replaced by the dark of the night. “If only I knew,” he whispered so softly that he was afraid she might not have heard him. 

“Then what’s the use in looking?”

Ilse was living. Her life was vibrant and full of colors. His was bland, monochrome in color and personality alike. They talked of paint, of pirates, of guns pressed against chests. Ilse begged Moriz to follow her home but he declined, no he refused. 

“Well, walk me at least.”

She was begging, Moritz didn’t like that. He didn’t like seeing the desperation on her face as she was kneeling by his side. Ilse was always so strong but now she looked weak, an immense contrast to how he remembered Captain Ilse! The girl who could beat any pirate with a single look in their direction! This girl was an imposter in her body. “I wish I could,” he said in hopes of clearing himself from her mind.

“You know, by the time you finally wake up, I’ll be lying on some trash heap.”

 

She stood up and brushed off her clothes, shook her head, and disappeared back into the forest like some tree nymph escaping capture. He winced, watching her leave silently. He stared where she had been. He heard a laugh from beside him.

“This is the season for dreaming, and you just threw out the only dream you could have had. Now all you have is a longing for a home and a guilty silver reply.”

Moritz stood up quickly, stumbling to his feet. “For the love of God, all I had to do was say yes!” he staggered forward and looked around the clearing. “Ilse! Ilse!” he shouted out but no one came. He called but no one heard his entreat, or they just simply didn’t care. His body was shaking and he couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the agony he felt pounding in his chest.

“You know what to do Moritz, make promise of your veiled threat.”

He walked back to where he previously sat, picking up the gun and holding it gingerly in his hands. “So, what will I say? I'll tell them all, the angels, I got drunk in the snow, and sang, and played pirates,” he nodded his head in thought. “Yes, I'll tell them, I'm ready now. I'll be an angel.”

“No more shadows anymore, my dear Moritz. No more Whispering, or memories, or weeping. All is forgiven.”

He looked out into the night and sighed, the world blurring as tears gathered in his eyes. The moon peeked over the treetops, lighting his young frame. His hands were shaking again.”Ten minutes ago, you could see the entire horizon. Now, only the dusk-the first few stars …”

“So dark,” he cocked the hammer of the gun.

“So dark,” he felt the burning cold against his lips.

“So dark,” his head shot backward and his body slumped to the left. Brain matter splattered against the ground like some Jackson Pollock painting. His eyes were open and lifeless, looking out into the night. Waterfalls of deep red gushed out of the back of his head, watering the tree with his blood.

“Goodbye, my Moritz.”

The masked man disappeared into the night, waiting for his time to return. For Melchior that would be far too soon.


End file.
